The Break of Freedom
by FaylinnNorse
Summary: The slipper was shattered and she was free. Cinderella. ONESHOT


The slipper hit the ground hard, with a shattering sound. It broke into pieces; a million tiny shards of glass exploded into the air. The glass rang for a moment as the pieces vibrated, echoing again and again. Then it was over and the slipper was gone. In its place was just a bit of sparkles resting on the marble floor. The one thing that tied her to this life was gone.

"I—I'm so sorry!" the old servant man spoke finally, his face blanched white. He was frightened, of course. The slipper was important; an artifact, a monument, an emblem of the prince's love and upcoming marriage—the peace of the entire nation.

She shut her eyes for a moment, remembering that night, that one night of magic. Spinning and stepping lightly in her beautiful dress, feeling his arms around her as they danced together, his handsome face. Then she remembered coming to the castle—the way they'd scrubbed her and polished her and painted her, how they'd squeezed at her waist and laced it tightly, lined her skirt and and the top of her bodice with ruffle after ruffle. They'd taught her how to speak properly and how to act properly and finally they'd even changed her name. Not simple Addie, the farm girl, anymore, now she was Adelle, the princess from a land far, far away.

It sounded exciting at first. She'd always enjoyed acting, pretending to be something she wasn't, that was what had gotten her to the ball in the first place. She remembered walking in, taking that first step into the brilliantly decorated ballroom, with an amused, haughty look on her face. She'd spoken to the guards with such an air of importance, tossing her curls around the while, they'd never forget her.

Acting had helped her change into precisely the girl—no lady, for she would never be called a girl again—that they wished her to be. The king, the queen, and the prince were all immensely proud of her and happy with the way she was now. She was good at it. But it wasn't her.

Sometimes she found herself wanting to climb a tree all of the sudden, or run through the woods, dance in the rain. She missed the rain. She could never hear it when it fell anymore, not through the thick stone walls of the castle. Sometimes she could watch it from a distance, as she sipped at her tea with her ladies. Sometimes she found herself wondering how the world just outside the window could be so very, very far away.

She bore it all patiently, though, for her prince. She loved him, didn't she? He was what this all was about, wasn't he? Now she found herself wondering. She'd asked him once, why her? There were plenty of other girls at the ball, most were far prettier than she was. And they wouldn't have required such scrubbing and changing to get them to be the right kind of girl.

His answer had merely been, "You're so beautiful." And he reached to brush a bit of her hair away from her face. The answer hadn't comforted her. She told herself that what he meant by that was that he loved her and nobody else, but that wasn't what he'd said.

"My lady?" the old man was asking, still looking horrified at what had happened to the slipper. He'd ran into the table it was sitting on, waiting for the glass case to be put around it. Now it was gone, both slippers were gone, actually. The other one she'd thrown into the creek after the ball, so no one would know that she'd gone.

She gave the man her brightest smile, one she'd not worn since she'd came. Ladies weren't supposed to be that happy, weren't supposed to be grinning for no good reason. "Please, just call me Addie," she said to him. "And thank you."

The man frowned slightly, his face turning from fear to confusion in a matter of seconds. This simply wasn't the way ladies acted.

But then, she'd never really been a lady. She'd pretended, of course, but one night of magical pretending didn't make her into one. And besides, she was tired of pretending. She was Addie, the simple farm girl, now and forever. Not to say that she might not pretend again later. There were always other balls to go to, other people to fool. She smiled again and skipped away, through the halls, down the stairs, and finally out the palace gates. The guards all stopped to stare as she passed; a girl, dressed in all her court finery, _skipping_ away from the palace. It was ludicrous.

Addie, on the other hand, was happier than she'd been in a long time, and never had she felt so glad to be herself. She thought of her prince again, for a moment. If he truly wanted her, he'd have to come and find her, not by her shoe size but by her face—and not the polished and scrubbed face of Adelle, the princess, but the dirt-streaked, muddy face of Addie, the simple farm girl.

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This is probably rather overdone, unhappy Cinderella and whatnot, but I enjoyed writing so hopefully you enjoyed reading it as well. I didn't proofread so there could be mistakes. Review! 


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